The Final Tour

This poem was written to describe and compliment the accompanying work of art by the popular new age artist, Jon Pitre called Heaven. You may want to look closely at the painting before your read the poem.


Everyone have your tickets ready,
The tours about to start.
Stay behind the bright white line,
Please don't drift apart.
Anyone with children,
Should step to the front of the line.
Help a child that's alone,
So they're not left behind.

Okay now, we're going to begin,
Tickets if you please.
Slowly step to the front, get in.
You might at first feel squeezed.
Everyone ready? Great, let's go.
Hold the railings tight.
Those of you in the middle.
Hold the person to your right.

It will only take a minute,
For us to reach the top.
The car moves fast yet pretty smooth,
And comes to a gradual stop.
Here we are, now everyone,
Slowly step outside.
You may feel a little dizzy,
We're up pretty high.

All of you look straight ahead,
See that twinkling light?
That's our destination friends,
Isn't it a wonderful sight?
Some confuse those vapors,
With ordinary clouds.
Actually they're a billion souls,
All wrapped in soft white shrouds.

Now you may be noticing,
All the bubble cells.
How they seem to replicate,
Grow bubbles within themselves.
These are both birthing places,
And where those passed now dwell.
This is where one's spirit goes,
Unless it goes to hell.

If you look very closely,
Within each bubble's core,
You'll see a very intense light,
And wonder what that's for.
That's is where creation starts,
That's where life begins.
That's where we all come from,
And where our lives will end.

See all the bubbles, big and small,
They dominate the sky.
Some are floating to and fro,
While others just pass by.
And within each and every bubble,
Someone's born and dies,
It's every human's life cycle,
No need to wonder why.

And as the bubbles drift away,
They lose their clarity.
Each core's bright intense light,
Is all that's left to see.
They become vestal spheres,
Of who we were and are.
Each a person's life-lived years,
Blends into the stars.

You may wonder what this means?
How it effects you.
The reality is that you're here,
To see as those passed do.
We're only moving forward friends,
There's no turning back.
You've all lived exemplary lives,
Please be assured of that.

For what lies here before you,
No mortal man can see.
You have crossed the threshold,
Of immortality.
This is Heaven, your new home,
There's no door or gate.
You'll not suffer or be alone,
It's every good soul's fate

Once inside you'll realize,
How good your life has been.
You'll look God straight in the eyes,
Then give yourself to him.
There's no turning back now,
No consequence or cure.
Here my friends, your first life ends,
This is the Final Tour.





Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney


kmm001
050110

Walter Augustus Lee

People always touted him,
Walter Augustus Lee.
No one ever doubted him,
Or his sincerity.

He was there to give advise,
You never had to ask him twice.
There was never one as nice,
As Walter Augustus Lee.

Those he knew respected him,
Saw all good reflect in him,
Wanted to connect with him,
And his prosperity.

He always cared for those with less,
Treated them as honored guests.
Sought good will and happiness,
For all society.

He gave away most he had,
Comforted the weak and sad.
Seemed content, never mad,
As far as most could see.

He never turned a heedless eye.
Minced his words for reasons why.
Yes, there was not a nicer guy,
Than Walter Augustus Lee.

Life then took a sudden turn,
Exposed a frailty.
What seemed at first a mere heartburn,
Turned out worse, you see.

Doctors probed and ran some tests,
Bi-pass surgery seemed the best.
When they discovered the seriousness,
They let poor Walter be.

No one came to comfort him,
In his time of need.
He'd wait for God to come for him,
With solemn dignity.

As his last days passed him by,
He just prayed, not asking why,
He knew one day soon he'd die,
Alone and quietly.

Though all his life he had shared,
It seemed as if no one cared.
And so it was no one was there,
When Walter bid goodbye.

I never knew someone who could,
Praise the way he did.
I never really understood,
The final days he lived.

A righteous man with tender hands,
Who always did the best he can.
Somehow seemed a lesser man,
In posterity.

Poor Walter Augustus Lee.


Copyright © December 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
120410

I Took My Friend...

I took my friend to see the doctor,

He was feeling bad.

The doctor told me what was wrong,

What little time he had.

I looked my friend in the eye,

Could not find words to explain.

Tears welled up as I tried,

To ease his incurable pain.

The doctor told me all I could do,

Was comfort him and wait.

I watched the life in his eyes,

Fade then dissipate.

I bid farewell through my tears,

Told him it would be fine.

I loved him dearly, for so many years,

That beautiful friend of mine.

I didn't realize how much I cared,

How little time we had.

When I took my friend to be with the lord,

The best friend I ever had.

RIP Niles
December 2003 - March 2014

Copyright © April 2014
Kevin Mooney

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0420714

Purple Penguins

Dapper Dan's from down below,
Weeble, wobble to and fro,
Winter bound in ice and snow.
Sporting feathered tuxedos.

Purple Penguins perched up-rite,
Playfully poignant, poised, polite.
Comedians dressed in black and white,
Slipping, sliding left and right.

Minstrels of cold South Pole nights.
Braving blizzards' blistery blights.
Antarctic's favorite frigid friends.
Marching onward with their kin.

Bashful birdbrained beaked heroes,
Tempting temperatures below zero.
People pause to watch them play,
All applause their pensive ways.

Caped connivers, fettered foul,
Sole survivors exist somehow.
Constantly struggling to fit in,
The always bungling purple penguins.




Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

In The Mirror

I see myself and wonder why,
I never did complain.
Those around me shuffle by,
And never know my pain.

Some may never give a damn,
Some may really care.
Some may lend a helping hand,
They all just look and stare.

I see myself through tear stained eyes,
Through rain washed window panes.
I hear the sounds of children cry,
Of those that feel the same.

Shadows pass by hauntingly,
With voices just like me.
Echoes cast dauntingly,
With joyless memories.

Standing in a mirror,
Gazing back at me.
I see a face growing nearer,
Craving sanctity.

As I reach to touch him,
He reaches out to me.
Our finger tips press together,
But lack affinity.

I wish life were easy,
I wish that I was free,
Of all the pain and suffering,
Bottled up in me.

I want someone to touch me,
Without hurting me.
To cherish and to love me,
Unconditionally.

I warm to my reflection,
Then better understand.
That my forlorn objections,
Were all part of the plan.

I know that God still loves me,
I just don't understand.
Was He thinking of me?
Was I part of His plan?

I want the world to perceive,
I'm honest and sincere.
Strong at heart and confident,
Loving without fear.

I want the world to believe,
I have no pained regret.
I belong and nothing's wrong,
I'll move on and forget.

I don't need assistance,
Pity or therapy.
I questioned my existence,
But now I am happy.

I want the world to be relieved,
Forget what's happened here.
I want to be the one I see,
Reflected in the mirror.



Copyright © November 2010
Kevin Mooney

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A Death Poem

Have you seen Soylent Green?
How 'bout Logan's Run?
Life's not always as it seems,
It ends for everyone.

Imagine finding your name written,
In an obituary.
Or seeing it etched in stone,
In some old cemetery.

What if you saw your body,
In a mortuary?
Or woke up to hear somebody
Recite your eulogy?

If you had the right to choose,
How you'd want to die,
Would you go quickly, in your sleep,
Or suffer wondering why?

Would you die while in the sky,
Falling with no chute?
Or half insane in a crashing plane,
Wearing a brand new suit?

Would you drown upside down,
Aboard a sinking ship?
Or burn and cower in a falling tower,
That a plane just hit?

How 'bout from a shark attack,
While swimming in the sea?
Or from a heart attack,
That happens suddenly?

How 'bout from disease or cancer,
Something with no cure?
How 'bout if you know the answer,
When you'll die for sure?

These are questions often pondered,
The older that we get.
Most would rather just live longer,
Do things they haven't yet.

I suppose no one knows,
When their time will come.
We all should live each day as though,
Today is our last one.


Copyright © January 2011
Kevin Mooney

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011611

My Constant Companion

I have a constant companion who's always in front of me,
He's usually shy and hiding, in his shrouded canopy.
He likes to play peekaboo and always has a ball,
His stature often vacillates, from short to very tall.

His voice is non-existent, he has no face you see,
He's annoyingly persistent, uncontrollably.
His head is rather large, no arms or legs to play,
He's really quite peculiar, in a manly sort of way.

I have to take him with me, everywhere I go,
He's part of my persona, my unforeseen shadow,
His single-minded arrogance is embarrassing to me,
As he rises without warning, non-consensually.

And when I let him out to play he's happy as can be,
He stretches beyond amazement, his one-eyed world to see.
The women, they all love him, he's coy-full and carefree,
His greatest gift, the joy he brings, his masculinity.

And when the day is finally done, his purpose spent, complete.
He tends to dwell in a turtle-shelled, zippered hotel suite.
He sleeps calm and peacefully, his goals firmly met.
His dreams form increasingly, often warm and wet.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

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061509

The Spurious Bull Frog

There once was a spurious Bull Frog,
Who sat curious on an old wooden log.
He thought pensively,
What his life would be,
If instead he'd been born a Bull Dog.

Oh what a life that would be,
No strife only prosperity.
Trade rib-its for barks,
Take long walks in parks,
Live and nap in the lap of luxury.

Instead of mosquitoes and flies,
He'd eat food that others would buy.
He'd trade in his croaks,
For a few doggy jokes,
Wag his tail as folks walked by.

Of course life as a frog's not too bad,
There's no fences or leashes to be had.
While munching his lunch,
He had a new hunch,
To houses he'd prefer lily pads.

And as the curious spurious Bull Frog,
Considered his mysterious bog,
It occurred to him,
To jump and swim,
Was more luxurious than being a Bull Dog.




Copyright © June 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060510

Little Windows

Sometimes the moon's like a window,
Like the hole in the top of a jar.
And all of the planets,
And all of the stars,
Are keyholes to where we are.

The night sky's a changing crescendo,
Crescent moons waning little and large.
Sparkling doubloons,
That brighten up rooms,
Some near and some very, very far.

At times God closes the windows,
Turns off some planets and stars.
The calamity,
Of twinkles we see,
Are like flashing head-beams from cars.

But when He turns on all the lights,
Opens all the windows of the night.
The stars and moonbeams,
And planets all seem,
To blend together with dawn's early daylight.


Copyright © June 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060510

Dr. Geisel Thank You Please

Doctor Geisel I presume?
On a bookshelf in my room?
Would you, could you, please do tell,
How you're able to spell so well?

Your stories intrigue both young and old.
Whether they're read or whether they're told.
Gee sir, please sir, help me see,
Satisfy my curiosity.

Doctor Geisel is it true,
The Cat in Hat was really you?
Some say yes and some say no,
I guess it's something to consider though.

My first book was Green Eggs and Ham,
Green Eggs and Ham and Sam I Am.
In all my life I've never seen,
Eggs and Ham so gross and green.

Then there's Horton and the Who's,
I've often wondered about them too.
Surely, the Who's that Horton knew,
Weren't The Grinch's Who-ville Who's?

Did Horton really hatch an egg?
Or were you only pulling our leg?
How can an Elephant sit so well,
On an egg and not break the shell?

And what of the Grinch, that grumbling stooge?
Some say he looked like Ebeneezer Scrooge.
Was Boris Karloff the voice we heard?
Somethings he did were quite absurd.

That poor max, his faithful friend,
What happened to him in the end?
You would have liked Jim Carey in green,
Ron Howard made him believably mean.

Dr. Geisel you were ahead of your time.
I watched the Lorax in prime time.
I liked his concern for the Truffula trees,
Nothing was worth ol' Once-ler's Thneed.

Now Marvin K. Mooney got a reprieve,
How many times was he asked to leave?
Could Marvin have been a political jest?
Was he Nixon's Watergate guest?

Oh Dr. Geisel we love your stories.
Their poetic rhymes and allegories.
Children find them simple and fun,
Yet they challenge everyone.

Dr. Geisel, thank you please,
For all your character memories.
I'm sure one day they'll reveal truths,
About ourselves and Dr. Seuss.




Copyright © July 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
072510

Eeny, Meeny, Miny and Moe

Four little explorers embark on a quest,
A dark, silent house, their noble first test.
With courage, grit and imagination in tow.
Off go Eeny, Meeny, Miny and Moe.

The foot of a mountain, they climb the steps,
Not knowing what horrors to expect.
As they reach the first level plateau,
They gather themselves then onward go.

A mountain climb for four weary souls,
A child's young mind never grows old.
With towel pinned capes and wooden swords,
Newspaper hats and laundry line cords.

As they reach the top of their sky-high stairs,
They huddle together to quell their fears.
No light exists in this lofty place,
Just shadows and darkness, and infinite space.

It's here the real adventure begins,
They huddle together with youthful grins.
A lone flashlight anoints their way,
As they struggle to live another day.

They move quietly from door to door,
Shuffling and crawling around on all fours,
Each room's explored with delicate care,
Closets are caves and dragon lairs.

They search beneath couches and beds,
Looking for treasures and shrunken heads.
Working in unison like a well oiled machine,
They seem to have formed a respectable team.

As the bewitching hour begins to toll,
The group decides their day to call.
A tent is pitched between two chairs,
To protect the group from predators.

For tomorrow's just a dream away,
Another adventure, another day.
That's how little imaginations grow,
Like Eeny, Meeny, Miny and Moe.




Copyright © January 2010
Kevin Mooney

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011610

Twenty Tiny Angels

Twenty tiny Angels,
Nestled in classrooms.
Twenty tiny Angels,
Vessel-ed in cask tombs.

Innocent little Angels
Sitting at their desks.
Innocent little Angels,
Solemnly laid to rest.

Eleven days till Christmas,
No more Santa Clause.
Heaven now be with us,
Comfort those that lost.

Defenseless tiny victims,
A senseless tragedy.
God is now with them,
For posterity.

Solitary survivors,
Scathed with agony.
Forever the reminders,
How tragic life can be.

Let their story grip us,
To our very core.
Pray their souls' be with us,
For now and evermore.

Are we all oblivious?
We all must stop and pause.
How can God forgive us?
Is it worth a social cause?

Twenty tiny Angels
Played in tiny rooms.
Twenty timeless Angels,
Displayed in tiny tombs.

Twenty little angels,
Rest now peacefully,
Constant reminders,
Reflections of you and me.

For eternity...

Copyright © February 2014
Kevin Mooney

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021314

Cosmic Caribou

Life seems somewhat trivial,
The world and those we love.
Inconsequential strife when viewed,
A thousand miles above.

Serenity, tranquility,
Swirls of clouds and hues,
Micro-scoped calamity,
Viewed through a hollow tube.

The further out perspective gets,
The less we heed or care.
Suffering, pain, neglect,
No longer forced to bare.

Higher still, reality fades,
Proportions blend, then fuse.
Focus blurs, congruity
Distort, contort, confused.

Animated grains of sand,
Kinetic solitude.
Specks in God's celestial plan,
Cosmic Caribou.



Copyright © February 2014
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
021314

John, Julian & Sean

Just Imagine...This is an acrostic

Tell the world, John, Julian and Sean,
Heal the world today.
End all suffering, hunger and wrong,
Let love lead the way.
Empty hearts mean empty minds,
Night time turns to day,
No one sees if all are blind,
Oppression needs a say.
Neverland's for those that dream,
Let's dream and never wake.
Instant Karma's message seems,
Nobody mends through hate.
Every person needs someone,
Search and you will find,
Feed a hunger, love someone,
Open up your mind.
Rest assured good deeds and words,
Take so little time.
Reap the harvest of the world,
Others will fall in line.
Understand that God's plan,
Belongs to you and me.
Let your hands show you can,
Embrace eternity.
Do unto others as you would have others,
To others be honest and true.
Imagine two brothers, sons of 2 mothers,
Mothers with 2 different views.
Everyday find peace and pray,
Share a piece of what John had to say.

John, Julian & Sean...


Copyright © October 2010
Kevin Mooney

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Children Of Destiny

Born beyond reason,With no right to choose,No future, starvation,Unsightly abuse.Never a burden,Lacking in care.Lives so uncertain,They're not really there.No beds to sleep in,No chairs to sit.No arms to weep in,No chance to quit.No house to live in,No shelter or room.No toilet or kitchen,Just impending doom.Meals are a benefit,So seldom seen.The food that they do get,Is putrid and green.Water so dirty,Many times used,Not one ounce of purity,Yet seldom refused.Clothes that are tattered,Shredded and torn,Shoes never matter,They're rarely ever worn.God's children entertained,With a lack of consequence.Their fate prearranged,Without meaning or sense.Lacking any inklingOf substance at all.Lives always sinking,In a vast karmic squall.Fighting from day one,For an ounce of dignity.Never able to say they won,A preordained destiny.

Copyright © January 2010Kevin Mooneykmm001011610

Grow Old With Me

To my wife Tracey. She completes me...

Come sit beside me,
Let's reflect a while.
When you're near it's soothing,
I've always loved your smile.

Our world's ever changing,
A perpetual turnstile.
Life's been entertaining,
I've cherished every mile.

As our years are waning,
It's become plain to see,
We're jointly self-sustaining,
Together, meant to be.

So grasp my hand firmly,
Approach the setting sun,
Side by side we'll journey,
Not as two, but one.

As we near the pinnacle of,
Our co-eternal quest,
Take solace in the knowledge,
Together we are best.

For each and every by-way,
Toward eternity,
Will grace our voyage sky-way,
As you grow old with me.


Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

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093009

The Scent of Summer Rain

I love the scent of a summer rain
When it's overdue.
It cleanses away pollen stains,
Left speckled by the dew.

It quenches thirsts for subtlety,
It eases mental strains.
It's essence has a fragrancy,
That settles idle brains.

It softens sun baked window panes,
Cleans soil-caked, dusty feet.
So often it's unjustly blamed,
For flooded urban streets.

My soul is cleansed of temperate pain
As it pours in tearful sheets.
An effervescent cool refrain,
From torrid summer heat.

Often spurred by hurricanes,
They scour pale grey skies.
Tornadic and Cyclonic remains,
Empower rivers to rise.

Drizzles sweet as sugar cane,
Spark waterfall overflows.
Hailstones in it's quake proclaim,
Majestic arched rainbows.

I yearn for dawn's passionate disdain,
The rumble of turbulent skies.
Those days when thunderhead clouds contain,
Teardrops for weathered eyes.

Burdens wash down bubbling drains,
Skies turn vibrantly blue.
They still a mind's quiet refrain.
Make the whole world feel brand new.



Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

051110

An April Psalm

Another April is upon us.

Consider these events and what might be next...

History's inscribed with painful regrets,
Time-stamped reminders we'd just soon forget.
Life changing moments wrought with misery,
Sober atonement's to God's apathy.


Consider this sequence of mid-April dates,
A 2-week stretch worth scholarly debates,
A series of occurrences without common thread,
A collection of tragedies riddled with dead.


April 12, 1861


A war between brothers, a nation divided,
The question of Slavery, debate undecided,
A Fort's forced surrender, human dignity fought for,
The anguished overture to The American Civil War.


April 12, 1945


Our 32nd President, nationally adored,
Died in office, the free world mourned.
The most tenured Chief in U.S. history,
Distinction was Franklin's last legacy.


On April 14, 1865


While the nation reeled to get back on it's feet,
Abe Lincoln was shot in his balcony seat.
"Sic Semper Tyrannis", his assailant cried,
"He belongs to the ages", a martyr had died.


April 14th, 1912


A ship's maiden voyage, an unsinkable fate,
A runaway iceberg too little, too late.
A Titantic virgin, high society's new rave,
1500 passengers sent to icy hallowed graves.


April 15, 1986,


Middle Eastern tension and territorial defense,
A Berlin club bombed, a dire consequence,
Libya then shelled in retaliation,
60 lives felled, without warning or provocation.


On April 16th, 2007,


A serene college campus in a rural southern state,
32 died at the hands of a class-mate,
Virginia Tech ravaged by a rampaged massacre,
Blacksburg's savage shooting disaster.


April 17, 1961


At the Cold War's peak, a secret coup spoiled,
A surprise invasion to take Cuban soil.
Kennedy's embarrassing political low,
A Bay of Pigs and failed Castro overthrow.


April 18, 1906


A west coast quake, San Francisco torn,
San Andreas faltered in the early morn.
The city shook while most people slept,
3000 died, scores left bereft.


April 19, 1775


Sovereignty sought, a new flag unfurled,
Red Coats and Minutemen, insults hurled.
A Lexington Common to settle the score,
A single shot heard, a Revolutionary War.


April 19, 1993


A poorly planned siege in a small Texas town,
An Adventist's forged stand on Koreshian ground.
Waco's Davidians, FBI, ATF,
82 perished, most burned to death.


April 19, 1995


Oklahoma, City, the last place you'd expect,
A rental truck blast, sheered lack of respect.
Alfred P. Murray's face blown to smithereens,
A day care center and heart-wrenching scenes.


April 20, 1999


Two young gunman arrived at school late,
Their intent malicious, their motive pure hate.
A rapid fire stroll in armored disguise,
12 Columbine kids, a teacher victimized.


April 20, 2010


An oil spill disaster beyond compare,
A world engulfed in ecological despair.
Wildlife and lives scarred thereafter,
The BP Deepwater Horizon disaster.


April 27, 2011


A US, mid-west tornadic storm,
Millions of lives irrevocably torn.
God's epic wrath funneled from above,
Record tornadoes, lost homes and ones loved.



These world changing dates seem random at first glance,
But placed on a timeline they're suddenly enhanced.
I only named some, those most can relate,
There are many others that fall in these dates.
A coincidence, perhaps, they happened when they did.
But consider they're significance, the possibilities unsaid.


Do worldly events occur randomly?
Or are we all tokens of some sovereign monopoly?
Are our future's staged, fates foretold?
Or are we engaged in some Divine stranglehold?


Is the future dictated by events from the past?
Outcomes determined when calendar's cast?
Are questions answered before they are asked?
How long will God's mercy eventually last?


If there's no purpose to one's life at all,
Would there be a need for a crystal ball?
Existence is tenuous, the future unclear.
Will God's beckon call be the last voice we hear?


History's defined in both time and existence,
Misery reminds us just how fragile life is.
The future's traversed with blind trepidation.
With mysteries cursed beyond Deprecation.


Church bells chime together consistent,
While rivers wind forever persistent.
Mankind's time is measured and imminent.
Lives intertwine then are gone in an instant.

  Copyright © July 2009Kevin Mooney

kmm059

070109

Atomic Picnic

Oh Mommy, Mommy, look at the cloud,
It's shaped like a big mushroom.
I've never heard fireworks quite so loud,
Will it be over soon?

Oh Darling, what a spot you found.
What a fantastic view.
Other families spread out all around,
All having a good time too.

Oh Mommy, Mommy, what's that smell?
Is something burning somewhere?
I think it's the sky, it's hard to tell,
Is it coming from over there?

Oh Darling, what a nice lunch you've made.
You're such a wonderful cook.
The weather's perfect, it's a beautiful day,
It's just like a storybook.

Oh Mommy, Mommy, did you feel the ground?
Was that a little earthquake?
Did the people in that little town,
Survive the rumble and shake?

Oh kids, don't worry, it's not over yet,
The fun's just begun.
This is something you'll never forget,
You and everyone.

Oh Darling, this day couldn't get any better,
But isn't it kind of ironic?
A picnic together you want to last forever,
Turns out to be atomic.


Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090411